


So Much Spring

by passion_dies



Series: Egotistic Jew [2]
Category: A New Brain - Finn/Lapine, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brain Surgery, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passion_dies/pseuds/passion_dies
Summary: Marvin learns to value life through a different journey.





	1. So Many Songs

Marvin didn’t consider himself to be a superstitious person. It was foolish to put faith in fate or weight in a divine power of questionable existence. As he sat atop a thin, stiff cot in the middle of a bleak hospital room, though, he refused to believe that his situation wasn’t a cruel form of retaliation from the universe for his selfishness.  
  
It had started that afternoon. He’d scheduled lunch with Charlotte to discuss his work, or lack thereof, on Mr. Bungee’s children’s TV show. As an aspiring composer, there was only so much work to find in New York City. Really, he knew he should consider himself lucky to even have a job.   
  
But he didn’t.   
  
Cranking out pointless music for the sake of having noise to entertain mindless kids was sucking his soul out of him. Sitting down in front of his piano was becoming a chore instead of a passion, each scrawl of the pencil feeling like a jab straight to his stomach. By the time he gave up for the day on writing for Bungee, he’d lost all of his motivation to create anything, which meant he wasn’t able to work on the songs that actually mattered to him. He was convinced it was killing any talent he’d had in the first place.

It didn’t help that his boss was a complete tyrant. Marvin was absolutely sure that Mendel Weisenbachfeld was the biggest jackass in existence. Every day, he zoomed around the set on a scooter like a child, ordering the staff around like a dictator and refusing to even allow his employees to refer to him by his real name. The man took acting to a point where he practically _lived_ as Mr. Bungee.

Marvin didn’t try to restrain his distaste for anything involving his current employer. Because Bungee was the purpose for his meeting with Charlotte, Marvin was in such a terrible mood that he brushed off the local homeless woman begging for change on his way to the restaurant.

That was where the problem started.

It hadn’t seemed particularly harmful at the time. It was only a little lie, a quick insistence that he didn’t have any change on him as he pushed past her so he could get to their meeting place as soon as possible. After reflecting on his day while sitting in the hospital, though, he knew that _that_ had been the beginning of the end. That was where he’d screwed himself over, that had been the cause of his bad karma. Now, he was paying the price.

Lunch had been a disaster from the start. Charlotte was understandably distraught over his lack of production. After all, she was the one who’d gotten him this job when she’d heard about his struggle to find a stable source of income. The obnoxious waitress had overheard their conversation and gushed about her love for _Mr. Bungee’s Lily Pad_ , which put him in an even worse mood. The constant talk about the damn frog forced him to lose his appetite and gave him a massive headache. It didn’t get better as Charlotte continued to pressure him, and eventually, he got so fed up with it all that he snapped at her.   
  
From there, all of his memories were hazy. His mind slowed down, he struggled to put together coherent sentences, and then he woke up in the back of an ambulance.

Charlotte met him in the hospital. She was by his side during the tests, and before long, another visitor showed up to see him. Two visitors, actually.  
  
Within an hour, his ex-wife was clambering through the door dragging their son behind him. She’d been less than pleased after he’d admitted his homosexuality to her and even less pleased than _that_ once he also admitted to seeing someone else, but they still visited each other often. She was still his family. Post-divorce, she’d wanted little to do with him, but now that he was in the hospital, she was as obsessive as she’d been when they were first married. Trina was at his side at all times, constantly fluffing his pillows or tugging the thin hospital sheets over his toes and insisting that he eat or drink something or talk to Jason or watch TV or read the newspaper or nap or do _anything_ that she could order him to do. It served as a reminder of why their marriage didn’t work out. The other reminder of why their marriage didn't work out was missing, just as Marvin had expected.

  
Whizzer was, of course, away on his sailboat near some island like Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard. The man radiated youth and freedom, so much so that Marvin couldn’t seem to tie him down no matter what he tried. He was constantly at sea, always exploring the oceans and soaking up the sun. Marvin couldn’t be sure he’d even come back once he heard about the incident at the restaurant. Whizzer was stubborn and Marvin had no doubt that he’d rather be on his own surrounded by the salty sea breeze instead of contained in a stuffy hospital. Anyone would.

Trina and Charlotte left once it got dark to give him a chance to rest, but rest was the last thing on his mind. Marvin sat alone in the silence of his room, eyes shut and mind racing. From the endless tests performed by the nameless doctors buzzing in and out of his room, they’d learned that there was an issue with his brain. They couldn’t be sure what it was yet or how severe it could get, but if it was in his brain, it had to be bad.   
  
None of the doctors would say it, but Marvin knew that this could be it. This could be the end of the road for him.

Thinking about the unfulfilled possibilities he’d been looking forward to made his throat tighten. There was still so much he wanted to do. His son wasn’t even a teenager yet, he wouldn’t be able to see him grow into an adult. He wouldn’t have enough time to mend his broken relationship with Trina. He’d never get the chance to give marriage a second try with someone he actually loved.

All of the songs in his head, all of the potential melodies and stories in his brain would die with him before they ever got to meet someone else’s ears.  
  
There was so much he still needed to write.     
  
That night, Marvin cried for the first time in years. It wasn’t out of fear, wasn’t caused by the dull, constant ache in his head. He wasn’t upset about the pain his possible absence would cause to Trina or Charlotte, or even to Whizzer and Jason. His tears were in selfish mourning of all of the songs that would be forever lost if he didn’t pull through. There would be nothing left to carry on his legacy, no music that someone could remember him by. What hurt the most was that he was sure all of this could’ve been avoided. He’d have his life and all of the possibilities that came with it back if only he’d been willing to spare a little change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why but i really wanted to write this au so?? i did??? idk man maybe i'll write more of it if i'm in the mood


	2. Whizzer Arrives

The gentle crash of the waves against the side of Whizzer’s boat was sweeter than any song Marvin had ever played for him. The cries of the birds soaring overhead blended with the flap of his sails in beautiful harmony, creating the most peaceful noise in existence. It was a sharp contrast to the constant bustle in the heart of Manhattan, a personal sanctuary that was constantly changing and yet always the same. There was nothing as magical as looking out at the deep, endless blue expanse of water surrounding him at the brink of dawn.   
  
Ideally, Whizzer would’ve spent his entire life in the middle of the ocean. There was always something new to do, somewhere he’d never seen before that the wind would willingly guide him to if given the chance. Nothing could make him happier than sitting at the hull of his boat, completely in control of his destination. Nobody could tell him what to do or where to go. The only thing he had to depend on was the wind itself, which had grown to be more of a friend to him than most of the people he knew back at home. It gave him a freedom that he’d never get at home, not with Marvin’s constant demands and the pressure that seemed to suffocate everyone in New York City. He was lucky enough to be able to depend on Marvin to pay for most of their expenses, giving Whizzer time to focus on his hobby. To help out, he occasionally sold paintings he produced while on his voyages, but the money from that was usually recycled into buying supplies for his next trip.   
  
He’d been in the middle of trying to capture the sunrise when his phone buzzed. At first, he ignored it, but the notification was followed with a barrage of beeps and vibrations. An exasperated sigh passed through his lips as he set down his paintbrush so he could see what the problem was. When he scanned the seemingly endless stream of texts and missed calls from both Charlotte and Trina, he immediately knew that something had to be wrong. All of them had been sent last night with the only exception being one lone missed call from Marvin in the early hours of that morning. The island he’d been drifting toward over the course of the past few days must’ve finally given him service.   
  
It took him a few minutes to piece together the information sent to him. Charlotte’s first text had been to inform him that Marvin had collapsed face-first into his plate of ziti at lunch and was rushed to the emergency room. From there, Trina had sent at least five texts begging him to get home immediately. Everything else from them was ignored except for Charlotte’s last text, which explained that Marvin had some sort of issue with his brain.  
  
Whizzer let his hand drop back down to his side and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a long, heavy exhale. There was enough food on the ship to last him for at least another week and he hadn’t even stopped at the Vineyard yet. 

It would be easy to pretend that he didn’t have any reception for a few more days. Nobody could prove him wrong. He’d have a day or two to spend on a beautiful island before he had to return to the dreary life of the city in an even drearier hospital. It would be one final treat to himself, one last chance to be somewhere happy and carefree before he went back to the real world.   
  
He brought his hand back up closer to his face, using his free hand to block out the sunlight enough for him to see the screen. Looking at Marvin’s single call made his phone feel as heavy as a brick. It was just a missed call, it wasn’t a big deal by itself, but it was from  _ Marvin _ . Marvin never called him while he was away, he knew that reception was spotty on his boat. His attempt to contact him was a cry for help, a hopeless effort that had to have been made when he was at his most vulnerable. 

Anguish bubbled up in his chest. To ignore Marvin when he needed him the most would make Whizzer the worst partner in the world, but to cut his trip off early would be a betrayal to the ocean. He crammed his phone into his pocket and moved to the railing of his boat, leaning over it and scanning the expanse of blue before him. His eyes darted out to search the waves for any sign of what the right decision to make was, but they provided him with no advice. The ocean carried on without acknowledgement of his struggle. The birds continued to squawk and squabble in the air, too wrapped up in the troubles of their own little lives to care about his.   
  
Just as Whizzer shut his eyes and moved his hands to his face to block out the ever-present aspects of the sea, a gust of wind so strong that it ruffled his hair and caused his sails to rattle blew past him. He clutched onto the railing to keep himself from falling overboard as the boat slowed due to the resistance of the breeze, feeling his heart pound so hard that it might as well be rattling out of his chest. 

Whether he liked it or not, the decision had been made for him already by the only constant companion of his out on the waves.    
  
Whizzer wasted no time putting away his painting supplies and cleaning up the remains of his breakfast. He expertly turned his sails to capture this new puff of wind, allowing it to steer him back in the direction of New York. It seemed so adamant to get him home that he was in the harbor before dinnertime, and not even an hour after that, he was thanking the cab driver as he exited the vehicle outside the hospital.   
  
“Hey, you!”   


Whizzer’s head whipped around instinctively. He had to suppress a groan when he spotted the local homeless woman pushing her cart of worn clothes and worthless knick knacks towards him. She was young and blonde and she’d probably be pretty if she wasn’t dressed in rags and under constant pressure to scrape up enough money to survive. Whizzer had talked to her a few times before and she’d told him her name, but he couldn’t remember it. Christina? Amelia?   
  
“Can you spare me some change, sir?”   


He looked in the direction of the hospital and then back at her, opening his mouth to protest. Then, he shoved his hand into his pocket defeatedly in search of some coins. His fingers clenched around a loose bill and he pulled it out, offering it to her with a small smile. Already, he was taking a step closer to the building, itching to see Marvin as soon as possible.    
  
“Here. Have a dollar.”    
  
Instead of taking it and thanking him, the woman looked back up at him in disappointment.   
  
“I asked for  _ change. _ Change is what I want,” she insisted in annoyance, although she still grabbed the money from him as she brushed past. Despite his confusion, Whizzer went into the hospital without giving the exchange a second thought.    
  
From the moment he opened the door to Marvin’s room, Whizzer had a massive smile plastered on his face. Marvin’s family was a mess, so someone had to be the strong one. Whizzer was more than happy to accept that responsibility given his absence up to this point. Trina was at Marvin’s bedside, Charlotte was on her phone in a chair nearby, and Jason sat on the floor, completely absorbed in a chess match against himself. When Whizzer’s eyes moved to Marvin, his smile became even more forced.   
  
Instead of sporting its usual look of annoyance, Marvin’s face sagged with exhaustion. He was pale and his eyes looked dull and glassy. When they focused on Whizzer, though, they seemed to lighten up a little. Charlotte stood up and hugged him, and Trina patted his back affectionately as he moved to stand by Marvin’s cot.    
  
“Hey, Marv. How do you feel?”   
  
The other man’s features lacked any sense of affection towards him. The only thing he gave him was a look of betrayal.    
  
“What the fuck took you so long?”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still have no idea why i'm writing this but now i can't stop help


	3. Just Go

The steady beat of a heart monitor from the room adjacent to his felt like it was nailing into Marvin’s brain, hammered in deeper with each high-pitched beep. It was reminiscent of the metronome that was left ticking more often than not in their apartment. While the one at home often provided him with inspiration, this constant pulse only served as a reminder of his musical shortcomings. All of his energy was completely drained from him, it was impossible to focus long enough to scribble out a melody. Even if he had the capability to write, there was no time between the constant check-ins with the nurses and the coddling from his family to dedicate to cranking out a song or two before his condition deteriorated.   
  
Whizzer’s arrival had persuaded them to leave for dinner twenty minutes ago. Marvin had stubbornly refused all of his lover’s attempts at conversation since then, and eventually, he resigned to reading a three-day-old newspaper in the chair Trina had been occupying for the past five hours.   
  
In the silence of the room, the incessant beep was made painfully obvious. It became so unbearable that Marvin pounded on the wall behind his head with his fist a couple times as if it was the other patient’s fault that their machine was so loud. He didn’t have to turn the other way to know Whizzer was staring at him because he could _feel_ his eyes burning into him, looking straight into all the pent-up anger and frustration that he’d tried to hide from his family. It was easy to conceal it from Charlotte and Trina, but he should’ve known it would be impossible to keep anything from his beloved sailor.   
  
“The walls here are so thin. You’d think they’d have enough of a budget to keep you from hearing other people dying,” Marvin commented as he yanked the sheets up to his waist. His tone was defensive, as if it wasn’t too late to convince Whizzer that everything was fine. The silent stare he got in response bothered him more than an eternity of listening to the monitor would’ve. Marvin crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at his legs. If he could, he would’ve fled the room to escape Whizzer’s wordless pity as soon as possible. How convenient that his control of his legs had grown so weak that he wasn’t able to walk to the door unassisted. That only left him with one option.   
  
“Go.”   
  
“What?”   
  
The confusion mixed with a twinge of hurt in Whizzer’s voice made Marvin’s resolve weaken. He’d been miserable without him. At the moment, he wanted to be as far away from him as possible, but he knew that in a few hours he’d kill to have Whizzer by his side. He shook the thoughts away, reminding himself of the pitiful state he was in.   
  
“Go away. You don’t have to babysit me, the nurses are already hovering over me. It’s their job.” Marvin picked at the identification band on his arm in an attempt to get it off so he could pretend it “broke” and get a nurse to put on one that wasn’t so tight. It only aggravated him further, leading him to add, “You weren’t here when I thought I was dying, so if I survived that, I’ll get by without you.”  
  
Instead of getting some sort of reaction like he’d hoped, the wordless pity from Whizzer intensified to a point where he could practically feel it sucking up all the air in the room and suffocating him. He gave up on trying to get the band off and let his arm hang down from the edge of the bed. Seconds later, he felt calloused fingers brush against his own. Marvin immediately jerked his hand away and shook his head.   
  
“Don’t – God, don’t touch me,” he complained, watching helplessly as Whizzer ignored his protest and grabbed his hand anyway. Already, he could feel his stony exterior melting away. Whizzer was being too sweet, too gentle and understanding and completely undeserving of Marvin’s sulking. All of the strength he’d had to muster up in front of his family was starting to crumble, and Marvin didn’t know how to deal with it. He _needed_ it. They’d be back before long, he couldn’t afford to break down in front of them.   
  
“Just go,” he insisted weakly, unable to put any merit behind his words and yet unwilling to give in. Whizzer, of course, ignored him.   
  
“You’re already losing your mind. I didn’t leave Martha’s Vineyard to be kicked out of a hospital by my own boyfriend.”   
  
Marvin opened his mouth to repeat his request like a broken record. Whizzer hushed him before he could get a word out and got up from his chair. Instead of leaving, though, he sat down on the bed. All of Marvin’s self control was lost immediately once he was pulled into an embrace, providing him with a warmth that burned straight into his core. The faint salty smell clinging to Whizzer’s shirt brought relieved tears to Marvin’s eyes, causing him to curl his own arms tightly around his source of comfort. For the first time since being checked into the hospital, Marvin actually felt secure enough to succumb to the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for the past two days. His eyelids grew heavy as he dragged the sheet up to his shoulder, slurring out a quick, “I love you.”   
  
“I love you, too,” Whizzer whispered back. Just before slipping into unconsciousness, Marvin heard an added afterthought.   
  
“Even in your ugly hospital gown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was working on mri day but i needed a break soooo here's a little something


	4. MRI Day

“Morning.”  
  
Marvin tried to keep his breathing as steady as possible and his movements to a minimum to appear asleep. It didn’t work. His nurse harshly tapped his arm until he was left with no choice but to open his eyes to stop the barrage.  
  
“Morning,” she called again, louder than before and with obvious annoyance on her face. Marvin stared, confused, at the empty wheelchair in front of her.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
The nurse pursed her lips. Dread settled in his stomach in anticipation of the answer.

“It’s MRI day.”  
  
The nurse had a hand on his arm before he could come up with a valid excuse to reschedule for another day, guiding him out of bed and into the chair. His fingers dug into the armrests, clutching onto it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The ride to the MRI room felt like it only took seconds despite it being on the other side of the hospital. All of the color was drained from his face as she pushed open the door and guided him over to the machine.

When he saw it, his stomach dropped.  
  
Marvin knew he had nothing to worry about. The nurse had assured him that it wouldn’t hurt at all and the machine wouldn’t even touch him.  
  
It would just swallow him alive.  
  
To make it tolerable, Whizzer had agreed to sit in the room with him and promised to be right next to him until it was over with. Marvin had thought it would be comforting, but now that he was here, it seemed like nothing was going to make this easier.  
  
Whizzer helped him out of his chair and held onto his arm as he hoisted himself onto the bed of the machine. So far, it didn’t seem as bad as he’d thought it would be. The nurse helped him to get comfortable and gave him some earplugs to block out the noise, even putting a pillow underneath his knees and draping a blanket over him.  
  
Then, just as Marvin had shut his eyes and resigned to taking a nap for the duration of the MRI, the nurse strapped him down. It wasn’t extremely tight and she explained it was just to keep him from moving and ruining the picture, but he already was feeling trapped. The blanket that had been warm and soothing only moments before now felt like it was suffocating him, holding him hostage to a gigantic hunk of plastic. His breaths were shallow and rapid as the nurse guided a helmet-like object over his head and then pressed a button that sent the bed slowly into the machine.  
  
“This should only take forty-five minutes,” the nurse assured him, patting his leg as he was sucked into the tunnel. “You’ll need to stay very still. It’ll be easier if you shut your eyes.”

As soon as the bed creaked to a stop, the machine started beeping loudly. Even with the earplugs, the noise was deafening. Instinctively, he flinched, screwing his eyes shut. Being in a loud, confined place sent panic coursing through his veins. He was gasping for air, clutching onto his hospital gown so tightly that it was a miracle it hadn’t ripped. This was too much for him to handle so early in the morning. He needed to eat and go to the bathroom and call Bungee to tell him he couldn’t work on any music until he was out of the hospital.  
  
“Help!” His plea was breathless and desperate, laced with anxiety.

It was no use.   
  
“Get me out of here!”

Marvin’s demand fell on deaf ears. The machine didn’t stop, the bed didn’t move, and the nurse didn’t say anything. He felt a hand on his foot that he recognized as Whizzer’s, but he didn’t pull him out of this hellish nightmare. He only offered him a few words of useless advice.  
  
“Take deep breaths. Think about something calm. Think… Sailing.”  
  
Marvin scoffed. “Sure. _Sailing_.” There was nothing he loathed more in the entire world.

With the exception of Mr. Bungee, of course.

The loud beeps stopped abruptly, replaced by a clanking noise that was much more tolerable. Marvin focused on his breathing and kept his eyes shut, coaching himself through each movement.  
  
_Breathe in. Breathe out._

_Breathe in. Out._

_In_ —  
  
Suddenly, a light cut through the darkness. The whirring of the MRI machine morphed into the cheerful chirp of birds, and when Marvin squinted his eyes open, the piercing light was partially blocked out by the silhouette of a man in front of him. After blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted to the sudden shift in brightness and focused on Whizzer, who stood near his feet.

New York City did him no justice. At sea, Whizzer practically glowed in the sunlight. His skin was tanned to perfection, flawlessly bronzed and never sunburned in the slightest. The wind mussed up his hair into a beautiful tangle of chocolate tufts. He had on a soft blue polo shirt, unbuttoned enough that a hint of chest hair peeked out. With his perfect posture and toned arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the ocean over Marvin’s head, Whizzer was the epitome of manly beauty.  
  
“Get up, sleepyhead. We’re here.”  
  
Marvin wiped the sleep from his eyes as he slowly pushed himself upright. That morning, he’d given up complaining about the constant rocking of the boat and the scorching heat long enough to rest on one of the uncomfortable benches. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, but the thin layer of sweat over his now-red skin served as proof that he’d been passed out for a few hours. He grabbed the pair of sunglasses he’d tossed carelessly to the floor in his earlier agony so he could shield his eyes enough to look out at their surroundings.  
  
“Where is ‘here’?”

“Cuttyhunk.”  
  
All of Marvin’s breath escaped his lungs as he looked out at the water. It shimmered in the sunlight, tinted a deep, brilliant blue. Dozens of sailboats speckled the surface, lazily bobbing around in the waves. They were all encompassed by what he assumed was Cuttyhunk itself, a ring of sandy brown and green in every direction he looked.  
  
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Whizzer had already returned to his canvas, smearing some teal paint across the bottom. “Don’t worry. We’ve only been here for half an hour, you haven’t missed much.”

“I _guess_ it looks nice,” he conceded with a hint of stubbornness, resting his arms on the back of the bench. “It would be better if we were actually going somewhere.”

The boat was almost completely still, only swaying every so often when a stray wave hit it. It only took a couple minutes for Marvin to grow bored. Looking out at their surroundings lost its charm when nothing was changing. Whizzer didn’t appear bothered by it at all, painting what was in front of him and leaving Marvin with nothing to do except melt in the heat.  
  
“Whizzer,” he complained, “can’t we go to the island? I need to get out of the sun, I’m already completely burned.”

“As soon as I’m finished with this.”

Marvin sat there for not even thirty seconds before he decided to take matters into his own hands. He went to the helm of the boat and turned the wheel, bracing himself for the sudden turn.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He turned the wheel as far as it would go, and while it made the boat rock slightly, it didn’t move more than a foot.  
  
“Stop touching that, Marvin.”  
  
A glare was sent in Whizzer’s direction as he moved the steering wheel back to its earlier position. “Why aren’t we moving?”  
  
“No wind.”

—

An ear-splitting electrical shriek startled Marvin back into the present. His eyes shot open and the ocean was gone, replaced by the dark interior of the machine.  
  
“Fifteen more minutes,” the nurse droned mechanically.  
  
Marvin squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself back into the memory. He could cope with fifteen more minutes in the sun.

—

When he returned to Cuttyhunk, the peaceful scene from before was gone. A few days had passed and Marvin had finally convinced Whizzer to leave so they would have enough time to visit somewhere else before they had to go home.  
  
The wind had picked up. It was manageable when they were sheltered by the island, but as soon as they left Cuttyhunk Pond, the boat rocked and swayed so much that Marvin was convinced it was going to capsize. He clutched onto the railing on the edge of the boat for his life, his stomach churning like the white-capped waves rippling underneath him. Even Whizzer appeared uneasy, flitting around and fiddling with every piece of equipment on the boat.  
  
“We need to turn back!” Marvin sucked in a gasp of air when one of his feet slipped closer towards the edge, immediately recoiling backwards. He longed to sit in the cabin so he wasn’t in constant danger of toppling into the ocean, but his hands wouldn’t let go of the death grip they had around the railing no matter how hard his mind was screaming at him to move.

“Calm down, it isn’t _that_ bad. You should’ve seen the wind when I was near Nantucket last summer, I— Marvin, are you even listening to me? Marvin?”

The voice faded, replaced by a much softer, clearer version in the present.  
  
“Marvin?”

The noises from the machine had stopped completely, save for the creaking as the bed slid out of the tunnel. On the other side, Whizzer stood there, looking much drearier than he had in Marvin’s imagination. His hair was disheveled instead of windswept, drooping over his forehead, which was crinkled with concern. The nurse, on the other hand, had a condescending smile on her face as she helped him back into the wheelchair.  
  
“We got all the pictures we need. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not at all,” Marvin muttered sarcastically, picking at his identification bracelet.

All of the time spent in the hospital up until that point had felt wasted. Nothing had happened. All of the tests from the doctors came up empty, ending as absolute wastes of time. It had been so boring that Marvin had been itching for _anything_ to happen, whether it was good or bad.  
  
As he was taken back to his room, though, he was starting to think that the slow pace hadn’t been so terrible. He’d been suspended in time, able to believe in the possibility of a good outcome. Once the doctor interpreted his pictures (which the nurse had promised would happen by that evening), that hope could be squashed forever.  
  
Truthfully, Marvin didn’t _want_ to know what was wrong with his brain anymore. He wanted all of this to be over with, he _needed_ to get out of the hospital and go back to his normal and mundane life.  
  
He needed a new brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i haven't decided yet what's going to come next but it's going to be less marvin centric


	5. Crainiotomy

“Sir?” 

Marvin shot up in bed at the sound of another voice in the room, dropping the notebook that had been precariously perched on top of one of his knees. The newest page was filled with undecipherable blue scrawls that were somehow meant to be lyrics to one of the songs Marvin had been meaning to write for Whizzer, most of which had been crossed out and scribbled over. It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus on the woman standing by his bedside, holding a clipboard and sneering at him.    


“Your MRI results came back. I talked to the doctor earlier. He wanted to be here, but he had a family emergency, so I’m going to explain your options.”   
  
Having to hear his diagnosis from a nurse who he already didn’t trust was unnerving. It wasn’t like Marvin had any other options, though, and all of his would-be visitors had gone to get some fresh air so Marvin could have some time alone to write. Nobody else was there to stand up for him. He clicked his pen shut and set it down on top of his fallen notebook, nodding in mock disinterest.  
  
“Okay, fine. What’s wrong with me?”

The nurse seemed pleased to be given so much authority over Marvin’s life. Her sneer grew even wider as she pushed up her glasses, slowly reading out his diagnosis as if he had the cognitive ability of a three-year-old.

“Arteriovenous malformation.”

When Marvin stared at her like she’d just told him there were chemicals in tap water turning the frogs gay, she cleared her throat and began to explain his problem in a condescending tone.   
  
“Some blood vessels in your brain are tangled in a big bundle. It’s something that you’re born with, and in a lot of people with AVM, it’s not a big deal. Unfortunately for you, yours hemorrhaged and now the only way we can fix it is through brain surgery.”

“ _ Brain  _ surgery?”

“Exactly.” After a pause, she added, “There  _ could  _ be some damage if the doctor isn’t exact.”

“What sort of damage?”

“Well, the blood vessels that are causing you a problem are in a very essential part of the brain. If he damages anything around it, you might be paralyzed. In the worst-case scenario, you could die. It’s really the only option you have, though, so I think we should go ahead and schedule the surgery for Friday morning.”   
  
“When’s that?”   


“Two days from now.”

The news was so shocking to Marvin that he struggled to catch his breath for a few seconds. Letting someone tinker with his brain was terrifying, especially considering that the nurse had just told him he could die as a result. He felt dizzy and, for once, he was relieved that he was confined to a bed so he wouldn’t collapse on the floor again.

“Can’t we wait? Friday seems too soon.”

  
“The doctor’s headed to Israel next week. Friday’s the only day he has available.”

  
He brought his hands to his face, covering it to block out the world so he could have a few seconds to himself to think through his options. There was only really  _ one  _ option, so he didn’t have to think for very long.   
  
“Alright, fine. Friday it is.”

The nurse wrote something down and then, for the first time since Marvin had seen her, she squeezed his arm reassuringly and even smiled at him.

“You’ll make it through, I know it.”

“Thanks, Diane.”

Her smile dropped immediately. She said nothing else to him, but she gestured to her nametag, which had ‘CAROLINE’ printed across it in blocky letters. Marvin’s face burned with shame as he watched Caroline slam the door shut behind her when she exited his room.

 

\---

 

As soon as visiting hours began the next morning, his usual swarm of guests burst into his room, clearly distraught over the operation that would be happening in less than 24 hours. Every single one of them was determined to spend the entire day with him as if it would distract him from the fact that it might be his last day alive. 

To Marvin’s surprise, it worked. He wasn’t concerned at all with the amount (or lack thereof) of time he had left until he forced down half of the slop that the hospital staff had delivered for dinner. Charlotte stepped out of the room while he ate to make a phone call, and when she returned, she practically radiated agitation.    
  
“Marvin, I just got off the phone with Bungee. He’s going to rehearse tomorrow whether you’re finished with the song or not.”

Silence fell over the hospital room. Marvin glanced over to the side of his bed where his notebook still sat from before, containing a half-finished draft of Bungee’s most recently requested song. He’d toiled over it for hours before coming to the hospital and had drained all of his inspiration within the first few lines. It had been untouched since his stay and he’d been planning on leaving it that way until the bad news came in. He didn’t even have time to think about it before Whizzer placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Forget it. He can write his own song, Marvin’s got better things to do.”   
  
Marvin scoffed and tried to sit up, but Whizzer just pushed him back down again. Charlotte looked distraught, shaking her head in frustration.    
  
“Marvin’s been working on that song for weeks, it has to be almost finished. This could cost him his job. He needs to get it done.”  
  
“No, he doesn’t,” Whizzer shot back. He directed his attention back to Marvin, softening his voice. “Don’t worry about him tonight. I’ll stay the night with you. I’ll let you lay on me while we watch The Kardashians and eat junk food. I’ll even let you teach me how to play chess. We’ll do anything you want.” 

He added a playful wink to his final words, flashing Marvin his signature grin. Marvin sent him a weak smile in return and then looked back at Charlotte, who stood near the door with her fingers tapping away furiously at her phone. His notebook sat within arm’s reach, just begging to be written in.   
  
Truthfully, Marvin was completely torn down the middle.   
  
On one hand, spending the night with Whizzer would be incredible. If he died during surgery, he’d be happy knowing that he got to spend one final night with the love of his life. There were endless possibilities to what they could do, all of which would be enjoyable. Even just sitting in bed with Whizzer’s strong arms curled around him would be enough to make him content.

That would’ve been great if there wasn’t Bungee’s deadline looming over him. If he did die during surgery, he’d leave no legacy behind him. All of the songs he’d worked on would be forgotten because he’d never gotten around to finishing them. There’d be nothing that people could remember him by. Even if his one and only song was for a children’s show, it would at least be  _ something. _ People would see it, kids would sing it, and a bit of Marvin would live on every single time it played. That was everything that Marvin had ever wanted in his career; hell, in his  _ life. _

Both Charlotte and Whizzer were staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He could see the pain in Whizzer’s face and the concern in Charlotte’s. Either way, one of them was going to be disappointed, and he might not be alive long enough to make up for it.  
  
The group sat in an uncomfortable silence as Marvin weighed the pros and cons of each option in his head. Just when he’d thought he’d made up his mind, a small, quiet voice that had been neglected since the beginning of the hospital stay broke the uncomfortable stillness and made Marvin’s heart feel heavier than lead.  
  
“Dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sort of a filler chapter but the next one will be some good father/son bonding time
> 
> also i made this into a series because i thought marvin/whizzer needed a little backstory so that'll be up soon after this!


	6. Father to Son

With a flick of Marvin’s hand, the entire room cleared out without uttering another word, leaving Jason alone with his father. It wasn’t something that happened often, and when it did, they’d usually coexist in uncomfortable silence until one of them moved to another part of the house to get some privacy. Now, though, there was nowhere for Jason to go. It was too late to take back his outburst and return to quiet observance.

Marvin patted the spot on the bed next to him, so Jason approached him, sitting cautiously on the end of the cot. Up close, he could clearly see changes in his father that he hadn’t noticed before. Dark, ugly bags hung below his tired eyes, which were half concealed by his unkempt hair. His face was covered in a thin, patchy layer of stubble only further contrasted by his sickly pale skin. One of his fingers was incessantly tapping on the mattress, which Jason had only seen him do when looking at bills and finishing songs.

Silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Jason wasn’t sure what he was supposed say. Despite living with him for the majority of his life, Jason hardly knew the man on the other side of the bed. He was little more than a source of income and chess games. Everything else about him was a mystery, hidden behind the front of a happy father that he constantly put up around Jason. The only times he seemed relaxed were around Whizzer, and with his frequent sailing trips and his father’s constant need to work, Jason didn’t get to see the two of them interact often. At least, not before this. He’d gotten to see more of Marvin’s personality in the hospital than he ever had before.

That would’ve been enough to make Jason happy if there wasn’t a sense of finality to everything. If the surgery wasn’t risky at all and Marvin would likely make a speedy recovery, Jason wouldn’t have paused his chess game for half a second to interact with him. He would be fine with sitting on the outside as a spectator to this illness, collecting pieces of information about his family by himself. 

He couldn’t let his father die without having a proper conversation with him, though. Even though he harbored some resentment towards him for treating his family so coldly, he still longed to have something with him. Jason wanted to know firsthand who he was. He needed something to hold onto, one final memory to cherish in case things went wrong. 

Marvin cleared his throat to get Jason’s attention. Their eyes met for a few seconds until Marvin’s rapidly darted away.

“How’s school?”

Jason shrugged, feeling his stomach clench with despair. These meaningless conversations were familiar. Marvin would feign interest in his life, Jason would give him a vague answer, and they’d go about their day with the knowledge that they’d at least interacted with each other once. It had been sufficient enough before, but now, it was terrifying to think that the last thing his father could say to him would be a bland repeat of all of their previous exchanges.

“I used to love going to school when I was your age,” Marvin murmured with a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “There were so many people there, it wasn’t hard to find at least one of them to pay attention to me. You wouldn’t believe the things I pulled to get people to notice me.”

Already, this had to be the biggest conversation they’d ever had. Jason had never heard his father say so many words to him at once, and he’d certainly never heard him open up about his childhood. He couldn’t even picture a younger version of him. Marvin was the epitome of stressed out and grown up. It was hard to believe that there was a time when he wasn’t serious and brooding in his office at all hours of the day. 

Marvin must have seen the surprised look on Jason’s face because he laughed. It wasn’t loud and it only lasted for a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make Jason smile.

“What? It’s true. I don’t know how anyone put up with me. Your mom and I got lucky with you.”

The amused look on his face faded. With a noticeable amount of effort, he pushed his unsteady body upright and shifted it until he was sitting side by side with Jason. 

The closeness was new. It made Jason uncomfortable, but he resisted the urge to move away. It was easier to listen to Marvin like this when there was no pressure to look directly at him. He stared down at the ground and listened to the sound of his labored breathing, waiting patiently for him to steady his head. It only took a few moments. 

“I mean that in every sense. We’re lucky that you’re not as… Rambunctious as I was, but most of all, we’re lucky that you’re in our lives. I’m lucky to be your dad.”

For once, Marvin’s voice didn’t sound harsh and condescending. Jason had never heard him speak so softly before. All of the pent-up anger and frustration was gone, leaving behind a tenderness that Jason didn’t know existed. He looked up at him just to make sure that he hadn’t been replaced by a different person entirely and then went back to looking down at his feet, watching his frayed shoelaces sway as he slowly tilted them back and forth.

“I know I haven’t done the best job. I’ve probably done a terrible job, actually, and I know that, but I never meant to. I didn’t want to hurt you. I guess I’ve been pretty selfish through all of this, but it’s harder than I ever imagined it would be. Your mother and I weren’t happy with each other, and even though it wasn’t fair, I couldn’t try to make everyone else happy when I was miserable. How could I be there for you when I didn’t even know who I was?

“It’s too late to make up excuses. If I could, I’d go back and change things, but I can’t. I just… I want you to know that I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I first held you in the hospital and I’ll love you until I’m six feet under. Who knows? Maybe I’ll still love you after that.”

Marvin chuckled dryly, but it only made Jason’s stomach tangle into anxious knots. Tears pricked at his eyes and even though he wanted to respond, he was too verklempt to say anything.

“I’m so proud of you, Jason. I meant it when I said I’m lucky to be your dad. Somehow, you’ve come through all of this without anyone’s help. You’re much stronger than I am. I know that you’re going to be a good man once you grow up. You’re going to do something special in the future, I can feel it. It hasn’t even happened yet and I’m already proud of you for it.” 

Marvin didn’t say anything for at least ten seconds. Jason held his breath, waiting for something to come next. 

“I want you to know that even if I’m not there to see it.”

A soft sob cut into the silence that came after Marvin’s words. Jason hadn’t even realized it had come from him until a pair of strong arms curled around his waist and pulled him into a warm embrace. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make the tears stop coming, so he just wiped them on Marvin’s hospital gown. 

Marvin didn’t say anything about the crying. All he did was hum a tune that Jason could’ve sworn he’d heard before but couldn’t put a name to. Once his sniffles died down, Marvin spoke again.

“Do you remember that song? I wrote it for you when we found out we were pregnant. You’d cry every single night and no matter how many times your mom tried to feed you or change your diaper, you wouldn’t stop crying unless I sang it to you.” He chuckled fondly. “You wouldn’t even sleep in your own crib, did you know that? As soon as we’d put you down and turn the lights off, you’d start crying again until I sang you the song. The only way I could get a full night’s rest with you was if I held you while I was in bed. Your mother threw a fit every single morning because she thought I’d crush you in my sleep, and every single night you still ended up there. You didn’t stay in your own room for the entire night until you were almost two.”

Jason’s eyes burned with fresh tears. He pressed his face into Marvin’s hospital gown and retold the story to himself over and over in his head, already clinging desperately onto this tiny snippet of proof that Marvin had cared about him a lot more than he’d made it seem. 

It still wasn’t enough. 

Nothing could ever be enough. It didn’t matter how many stories he heard or how many times Marvin said he loved him. It still wouldn’t be enough to make up for the absence of his father as he grew into adulthood. 

“I’m scared,” Jason whispered. 

It was so faint that he didn’t think Marvin had heard it.

“I’m scared, too.”

The tone of Marvin’s voice had changed. It was raspier and his words were choppy. It took Jason a few seconds to realize that it was because he was crying. Through all of this, he’d hardly considered the toll that this was taking on the very person directly affected by it. Jason could lose a father, but Marvin could lose his life. His fingers clenched around Marvin’s hospital gown and he leaned his weight against him to provide him with the comfort that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Let’s be scared together.”


End file.
